| Exerpt: |
| "The growl rises up from the shadows. Hungry. Seconds tick away, marked by the ragged wheeze of my lungs and the low rumble in the dark. Is it getting closer? I strain to see. Ten feet in any direction and the black is absolute. I can feel that ghost itch again, the sense of being watched. What's it waiting for? Wide-eyed, I search the gloom. There! Its breath rises in wisps over the far edge of the road, like gray smoke. The growl rolls with the rhythm of those breaths." |
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